Intoxicating
by yellow notepaper
Summary: What could be more beautiful than a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, its delicate contents swirling inside a silky black cauldron? [ss.gw] drabble.


**_Intoxicating – a fanfic by yellownotepaper_**

_**Category: **Harry Potter_

_**Rating:** PG-13_

_**Summary: **Watching her was intoxicating… SS/GW drabble._

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character's._

-----

What could be more beautiful than a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, its delicate contents swirling inside a silky black cauldron?

Snape sighed, his breath swirling in a cloudy fog in the coldness of the dungeon. The moss creeping up the walls gave the room a dank, moist atmosphere, and a faint drip-drop noise was emanating from the corner. Snape turned around to watch the slow trickle of water splash onto the cold, hard dungeon floor. His lips curled into an ugly sneer. He lazily waved his wand, and a bucket appeared out of nowhere, catching the water with a metal 'ping'.

He sighed again, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, letting the smoky scent of the icy blue fire calm him into a daydream.

The singe light was provided by the pale blue flame gently licking the bottom of his cauldron. The gray fumes rose slowly out of the cauldron, spiraling gracefully in the cold air. His hand grasped the cauldron, a pale yellow finger tenderly caressing the smooth edge. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and inhaled through his hawk-like nose. His eyes snapped back open. It would be ready soon.

He glanced at the clock, squinting through the vapors. One more minute.

It was late, very late, but he could not stop. There was a high demand for this potion, and if it was not done correctly down to the exact minute, it was ruined, and his hours of hard labor were wasted.

He paced, a calculative expression on his face as he examined his potion. His face was creased with concentration, every oily pore in his face visible. His black eyes flashed, the blue light flickering on his greasy face. Suddenly, his potion turned a vibrant, peacock blue. The corners of his mouth turned up the slightest bit. "Perfect," he muttered softly.

He grabbed a phial and dipped it in the potion, filling it with the bright blue substance. He held it up to the light and, apparently satisfied, put a stopper in the neck and set it down gently, almost lovingly, on his desk.

'_Bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…'_

He scowled as he remembered those words, the ones he said every year to his first year class. His students, no matter how adept or intelligent, never quite had the potion genius that he himself possessed.

Everyone except her.

Her face swam into his mind and he froze, an unreadable expression on his face. He then shook his head violently, apparently furious with himself. He could not let her distract him. No one could. He had a job to do, and he could not afford distractions. There was careful planning to be done

But oh Merlin, that face…

There came a knock on the door, and he jumped. He frowned slightly, his expression frosty. "Enter," he said hissed.

The door was opened, and a swish of black robes came into sight, followed by a head of vibrant red hair. The blue light of the flame danced on her face, the face that had been haunting his dreams. Snape felt a twinge in his midriff as her innocent brown eyes met his beady black ones.

He cleared his throat. There was a silence as they stared at each other, both breathless, the quiet atmosphere punctuated only by the occasional drop of water into the tin pail. He swallowed and spoke with a forced nonchalant air, although his heart was pounding madly in his chest.

"May I help you, Miss Weasley?" he said, his face expressionless.

She bit her lip. "I believe so, Professor," she said shyly, looking straight into his beady black eyes. "I need a potion for dreamless sleep." Her cheeks tinged pink, but Snape remained seemingly oblivious, although questions sprung up in his mind. He spoke again, his expression icy and unforgiving.

"Why did you not go to Madame Pomfrey?" he said coldly.

She shrugged, her eyes never leaving his own. "She was all out, and I figured that you would have some."

He nodded curtly and turned his back to her, walking past the seething potion to his storage cabinet. He bent down and began to look through his vast collection of potions and cursing the lack of organization it contained.

"It will be a few minutes," he said brusquely, waving his wand and conjuring a chair out of midair. "Please sit down."

She complied, sitting down with a sort of untouchable grace that was uncommon for a woman of her age, and stared at the floor shyly. Under the alibi that he was looking for her potion, he glanced at her occasionally, marveling in her beauty.

Ginny Weasley had certainly changed over the years since she had first arrived at Hogwarts. From a mousy little girl to this gorgeous creature sitting in front of him…Snape would not have believed it possible. He had been teaching at Hogwarts for several years now, and had watched many kids grow up and leave Hogwarts, but none of them had changed as drastically as this girl…no, this _woman_…sitting before him. Her face, once chubby and youthful, had shaped into a delicate oval, a permanent blush on her cheeks and her lips rosy. She ran her fingers through her hair distractedly, and Snape inhaled quickly, the light echoed on her infamous Weasley hair.

Her lips pursed suddenly, and a pleasant shudder traveled down his spine. Her head rose, and her eyes met his own in a crackle of electricity. His head snapped back to the closed cabinet doors, his face twisted and raw. He would not lose control - he _could not_ lose control. There was more at stake here than just rejection.

He slipped his left hand into his pocket, his cold fingers grasping the thin wood inside. His hand shook slightly as he held it out before him into the sea of darkness.

"Lumos," he said with strained calm, his voice cracking the slightest bit as he kneeled down in front of the cabinet. He squinted as a sudden brightness came flooding into the dungeon, but nevertheless held it into the cabinet, his darting eyes squinting into the darkness.

Potions in various colours lit up as he held his wand to them, although none of them were the dreamy purple he was searching for. He blinked the white spots out of his eyes and continued to look, but to no avail. His wand lit up a deep red flask, and he froze. A love potion…

He stood up swiftly and brushed off the knees of his robes, cursing softly.

"Something wrong, Professor?" she said softly, breaking the silence. He jumped and glared at her, although his eyes softened as they met her own.

He cleared his throat. "I am afraid that I am fresh out of the potion, Miss Weasley," he drawled, twirling his wand back into his pocket.

Ginny's face fell, and Snape felt a pang of remorse. He hesitated, and then spoke again.

"Is it necessary for you to have it this instant?" He frowned as she nodded, looking faintly embarrassed. He spoke grudgingly, knowing well that he would regret his words in a minute.

"It is not a complicated potion," he sighed. "I suppose I can brew it up while you wait.

She smiled at him, and he ignored the squirming sensation he received, turning to open his supply cupboard. Taking out the necessary ingredients, he set them on the table, waving his wand lazily. A knife, which had been lying innocently on the desk, soared into the air and started chopping the materials on its own. Another wave of his wand, and a second cauldron appeared out of midair.

"Incendio," he muttered, and a blue flame shot out of the end of his wand, lighting the bottom of the cauldron. Slightly pleased that a pair of brown eyes was following his every move, he murmured, "Aguamenti," and the pot was filled with bubbling water.

Minutes passed by oh so slowly, neither one willing to make eye contact. Every now and then, he would add another ingredient, or she would cough, and the silence would be broken. About a half an hour later, Snape decided to push his luck.

"May I ask, Miss Weasley," Snape hissed suddenly, surprised at his own daring as Ginny looked at him. "Why do you need this potion?"

Ginny looked surprised too, a confused expression written all over her pretty face. She hesitated, but then said slowly and cautiously, "I have nightmares."

Now it was Snape's turn to express confusion. "Nightmares…?"

Her blush darkened, her ears a lively fire-engine red. She brushed a stray bit of hair behind her ear and spoke. "Things happened in my past," she began slowly, her hands clasped together nervously. "Things that I would like to forget." She looked at the floor, horribly embarrassed.

Now Snape was really baffled. His bewilderment must have been evident on his face, because Ginny smiled bitterly, the corners of her pretty mouth turning up slightly.

"You are familiar with Tom Riddle's diary, I am sure, Professor?" she said softly, a harder edge evident in her voice.

It took him a few seconds to realize why she was bringing this up. His confused expression turned to one of complete astonishment. Meek little Ginny Weasley…no…it was impossible, out of the question…

His mind was whirling with emotions, with questions, but Snape found that he could not voice any of them. His lips moved soundlessly, no words evading his chapped lips, looking very much like a fish out of water.

"No," he whispered helplessly. "No…it cannot…impossible…"His hands felt limply at his sides, staring at Ginny, who looked uncomfortable.

"Yes," she whispered, a single tear falling onto her cheek. She slowly brushed it away, turning her head so they made eye contact.

His black eyes bored into her own, an intense silence falling over them. Snape cleared his throat and Ginny jumped.

"I –" he trailed off, his empty voice hanging heavily in the air.

His hand gestured awkwardly. She bit her lip anxiously as he looked away. His eyes fell upon the potion, which was now an ugly, sticky black, looking very much like tar.

"Shit," he cursed softly, striding over to the cauldron as his robes billowed behind him. He glanced quickly into the cauldron, muttering under his breath.

"Miss Weasley, I am afraid that this," he gestured towards the ruined potion. "Will serve inadequate as the potion you requested," he finished, as if their previous conversation had not happened.

She did not look surprised at his sudden change of attitude; she smiled, as if expecting it. "I appreciate your efforts, Professor," she said, standing up. "But I believe that I am no longer in need of that potion."

Snape's eyebrow shot up, his mouth curling into a sneer. "And why would that be?" he hissed dangerously.

She moved closer to him, almost nervously. "Because," she said slowly, moving closer and closer until she was directly in front of him. Their faces were inches from each other's; he could smell her flowery perfume. He hitched his breath but did not back away.

"Because," she repeated, twirling her hair. "I am with you."

Before Snape could fully comprehend what she had said, she had kissed him. He opened his mouth in surprise, and her small pink tongue darted inside his mouth, intertwining with his own. An immediate cinnamon sensation overwhelmed him; his eyes widened as a small hand trailed up his thigh…

Before he had time to realize entirely what had happened, it was over, and Ginny, blushing furiously, had stepped back a few paces. For the second time in the past ten minutes, he closely resembled a fish. His mouth was opening and closing, but no sound escaped his lips.

"Thank you, Severus," she said softly, smiling slightly at him. Snape felt a squirming sensation in his midriff as he heard his name drop from her rosy lips, but his expression remained as frosty as ever. She bit her lip, an anxious habit.

When he did not show any sign of emotion, she fled, her brown eyes flashing in the darkness as she slipped out the door.

The door slammed behind her quite loudly, but Snape did not flinch. His thoughts were elsewhere; a few seconds previous, actually. He sat down shakily, his heart pounding a tattoo in his chest. Frantic thoughts were swimming throughout his mind, though they all said the same thing. He sat down heavily (thankfully) in a chair that was right behind him. Snape was grateful that it was, for he wasn't sure he could move.

Ginny Weasley kissed him.

The littlest weasel kissed him.

A _student _kissed him.

That last reflection seemed to bring him out of a reverie; he snapped back to reality, standing up briskly and striding over to the spoiled potion. "Evanesco," he hissed, although his voice was not nearly as cold as it would have been otherwise. The thick black mess disappeared, and he exited the classroom abruptly, his robes billowing behind him as he closed the door.

Ginny never told anyone of what had gone on in the dungeons that night, and Snape wouldn't dare breathe a word of it either. They kept their silence, and went on the next day as if nothing had happened between them, and the days to follow were no different. However, if you watched them closely, you would see a spark of electricity between them as their eyes locked, or a faraway look in their eyes as they gently touched their lips. And occasionally, you would see Ginny slip into the dungeons, into the arms of a dark stranger.

-----

**A:N://**I don't know if I'm happy the way this turned out. I don't particularly like the ending, but I couldn't think of anything better. If you have any ideas, review them to me puh-lease!

Maybe I'll edit it again in the future. Then again, maybe not. You decide. R&R my lovelies!!

erin


End file.
